


Feels like home

by justonemoremiraclesherlock



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Developing Relationship, Family, Fluff, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Other, pre-slash/slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-21
Updated: 2012-12-21
Packaged: 2017-11-21 22:06:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/602581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justonemoremiraclesherlock/pseuds/justonemoremiraclesherlock
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The relationship between Sherlock and his brother was very different when they were young. These are some snapshots of their childhood, and how it affected Sherlock's relationship with John.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Feels like home

**Author's Note:**

> Important: This was inspired by a scene in my fic "It's all fine", but it's not necessary to have read it first. Basically, Mycroft told John how close he and Sherlock were when they were young, and how their relationship fell apart when he went to college.

"'Lock, why is there a dead bird under your bed?"

"It's an experiment!"

"You can't just keep dead animals in your room. Mummy will be furious if she finds out," said Mycroft, trying to ignore the disappointed look on his brother's face.

"But how am I supposed to learn about them if I don't experiment? I've been looking for another documental on TV, but I couldn't find anything! And you know I'm not good with reading, yet," he pouted.

"All right, hear me out. If you promise not to collect any more dead animals, I promise to take you to the science museum. Deal?"

"Only if you help me do other kinds of experiments."

Mycroft was going to refuse, but how could he say no to that face?

"No dead animals. And no doing them on your own, either."

"Deal."

...

"Sherlock, I did the shop- What the hell is that?"

"An experiment, John."

"Right, of course. And considering that every organ on the human body is now on our kitchen table, may I ask where is the body itself?

"Still in the morgue, I assume."

"Well, thank god for that, at least." John sighed and put the groceries away. He was about to make some tea and hide in the living room, when Sherlock's voice stopped him.

"Are you mad at me?"

"What? Of course not. Frustrated about finding the kitchen like this, maybe. But not mad."

"Oh." Sherlock furrowed his brows, confused.

John went to stand beside him, and put his hand on the detective's shoulder, giving it a tight squeeze.

"Want some help?"

"You want to help me? With an experiment?"

"Well, I'd rather have dinner without the table being filled with human organs. And besides, I'm a doctor. I'm sure you could use a second hand."

Sherlock simply looked at him, stunned, before giving a small smile and handing John a couple of gloves.

* * *

"Mycroft?" Sherlock whispered, shaking his brother's shoulder.

"What's wrong, 'Lock?"

"Can I sleep with you?"

Mycroft sighed, but budged over so Sherlock could slid under the covers and snuggle up to his brother, who placed his hand on the little one's curls, petting his head.

"Tell me."

"Why doesn't anyone like me?" asked Sherlock in a tiny voice, pressing his face further in his brother's collarbone.

"It's not that they don't like you, 'Lock. They don't understand you. You are smarter than them, so you don't have many things in common. There's nothing wrong with you, all right?"

"But they always call me a freak; they say-"

"Don't listen to them." He moved Sherlock so he was facing him, and caressed his cheek. "I promise it'll get better. Just give it time."

...

"She had no right to treat you like that, Sherlock."

"Just leave it, John. I'm used to it."

"Well, you shouldn't," said John, walking into the kitchen to make some tea. "Even if you don't care, I do. You are not a freak Sherlock"

"Aren't I?" whispered the detective, who was now standing behind John.

"No, you are not." John turned around and gently stroked the detective's cheekbone. "She doesn't understand you Sherlock, that's all. There's nothing wrong with you."

Mycroft's words echoed in Sherlock's head. He leaned forward and brushed his lips against John's forehead.

"Thank you."

* * *

"I'm sorry, Sherlock. I know I promised I would stay, but Mummy has been invited to a very important dinner. I didn't forget, though. Here." She gave Sherlock a small box, and pecked his cheek. "Happy birthday, sweetie. I have to go now, so be a good boy, all right?"

Sherlock looked out of the window, watching Mummy while she got into the car and was driven away. He stayed like that for a few seconds, before throwing the box on the couch and going to his room, throwing himself face down on the bed.

He stayed like that, crying quietly, until he felt the bed dip and a hand on his hair.

"I'm sorry, 'Lock," said Mycroft. Sherlock simply curled himself in his brother's lap, seeking comfort. "We can still celebrate your birthday. You said you wanted to study the stars, didn't you? Well, I think this is the perfect night for it."

"We can't, Mycroft. We still need to buy the telescope, remember?"

"Well then, it's a good thing someone got it for your birthday."

Sherlock stopped sobbing and leaned back to look at his brother, who was smiling warmly at him.

"You bought me a telescope?" he asked excitedly.

"I did. So, what do you say? Would you like to try it out?"

...

"So, John... Are you doing anything tonight?" asked Sherlock, acting nonchalant.

"I'm going to the pub with some friends, actually. Why?" answered John without looking up from his laptop.

"No reason." The detective pushed any thoughts of disappointment to the back of his head and got up. "I have to go. I've got meeting with Mycroft."

"You don't sound very happy about it."

"I'm never happy when it concerns my brother."

Hours later, Sherlock made his way back home, trying to erase the disgusting feeling of _loneliness_ that was creeping up on him. He threw his coat on the floor on his way to the kitchen, but the sight in front of him stopped him in his tracks.

"Happy birthday, Sherlock," said John, with a warm smile on his face. There was a cake in front of him, with a picture of a skull, and a wrapped box beside it.

"You remembered."

"How could I not?" His smile grew even wider. He walked to the detective and gave him a light kiss on the cheek. "Now, come on. I spent all  afternoon cooking, so you better eat everything."

* * *

"Sherlock, please, don't be like this. Open the door."

"Go away, Mycroft."

"'Lock, please."

Sherlock reluctantly opened the door. His eyes were red, and there were still some tear tracks on his cheeks.

"'Lock, listen to me. I'm not abandoning you, all right? I'm going to college. I know I won't be around all the time, but we can talk over the phone, and I'll stay here on weekends." He tried to ruffle his brother's hair, but Sherlock ducked his head and started to cry again.

"No, you won't. It won't be the same. You won't be able to come home every weekend because you'll have to study, and I won't be able to call you either for the same reason. You're leaving me, Mycroft. You promised you'd always be here for me, and now you're leaving me."

"'Lock-"

"Get out."

"Just listen-"

"No. Get out." He turned away from his brother and collapsed on his bed, his back to him, while Mycroft sighed and left the room.

The next day, Mycroft left to college. Sherlock stayed in his room, refusing to talk to him before he departed.

The next time they saw each other, it was almost a year later, at Christmas. Sherlock didn't speak more than five words to him during his stay, and Mycroft never pushed.

...

"I don't want you to leave, John."

John had just arrived home from his shift at the clinic. He was about to go into the kitchen to make some tea, when Sherlock's statement stopped him in his tracks.

"I- What?"

The detective got up from his armchair and cornered John against the wall. Before John had time to react, Sherlock cradled his face with his right hand, while the other one curled around his waist, and smashed their lips together.

"I said," whispered Sherlock when they broke the kiss, "that I don't want you to leave. I don't want you to date those boring girls; I want you to stay here. With me."

John froze, speechless, until his brain processed Sherlock's words. He smiled and brought the detective's head down for another kiss.

"I love you, you idiot. I'm not going anywhere."

 

**Author's Note:**

> Too many Holmes' feels. I always wanted to explore their relationship a bit, so this was fun ~  
> Hope you liked it, and constructive criticism is very much appreciated, as always :)
> 
> Lots of love Xx


End file.
